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humor. run. jog. walk. wog

Not really a nut cracker but definitely a knuckle cracker. I never like cracking knuckles. Creeped me out when others did it. I would never do it. I always heard it was bad for your joints. Now suddenly I catch myself cracking them at least five times a day!

Decided that part of the reason I can’t get out of bed in the morning is because with my heated sheet it is so warm and I don’t want to get out into the cold room. So last night I decided to not turn it on. I won’t make that mistake again! I had double yes, DOUBLE charlie cramps in my legs. I can still feel them hurting.

I have to renew my license this year. First tie since I have moved here. I would like to think I have changed physically but the number on the scale says differently.

I think cancer has taken my humor. I can’t seem to find it anywhere. I used to be somewhat funny. Smart funny at times even. Now I struggle to smile at anything I say.

I have only logged twice in the last month! How am I going to finish the big race that is one month! I have no idea .

I think it is odd that I get all of 50 in 50 Marathon (James) blogs emailed to me but his wife Paula at Never a Dull Bling (first blog I followed) doesn’t. I get Shameful Sheep but not Runner Girl or Diane’s Lady who reviews lunches. Why is that? I subscribe to the all the blogs the same way. Technology baffles this old body.

There are stressful things going on in my personal life that I feel I have no input in. In turn it is causing me to hot flash. I take meds to fight the hot flashes but the stress and anxiety always wins.

I found bird poop on my car that looks like the mother mary. Even the birds are Jesuits in this city.

I want to tiptoe in the tulips this weekend but I am afraid it will only be green stems. No matter I am going on a road trip and I like it! Skagit Valley pictures to follow. That is if I ever take the time to really blog again.

Hello! It has been far too long since I have blogged. I keep making excuses that I am too busy. Truth is I don’t run anymore. I don’t have the desire to. I don’t have the drive to even try. It makes me feel like my blog is misnamed now. No matter this was my safe space when I was diagnosed with cancer and needed an out and a support group without sharing it with the people in my life…

So here I go again, over sharing everything that I have been holding onto for far too long.. prepare for word vomit:

I have had two toenails fall off, completely fall off with no struggle. I took off a sock and one popped off. I had one fall off when I turned under the covers. My nails are so flimsy and easily snagged that I have to cut them down short, really short. It’s a side effect of the meds.

There are days my bones ache. Getting out of bed or a chair takes me what feels like hours. Side effect of the meds.

My vision is becoming blurry. Not all the time but more often now. A side effect of the meds.

Sex, well sex is uncomfortable and painful and just down right doesn’t happen as often as it should. We used to be so good at it too. A side effect of the hormone suppression.

I have developed some weird type of social anxiety and find that I do not go out as often as I used to. I use the excuse of being tired or busy or Keith doesn’t want to go (he is always willing to be my scape goat) I get sick thinking about going out dancing, or an auction that I have attended for years, or a friends 30th birthday party. I want to just stay home where I am safe and happy and understood.

I have no memory well some but it is very, very short. Like I may even forget what I am typing right at this moment, short. It attributes to the social anxiety. I don’t remember birthdays, or events or more often than not conversations about things. I HAVE to write them down or log them immediately in my phone. Worse thing is I will email myself from work so I will remember to buy gas when I get out of work!! The email pops up on my phone as I leave so I see it. I used to be so much better at this.

I am angry. Probably lack of sex and hormones and memory and vision. Ha ha! But I really am. I don’t process work as well as I used to. A big part of it is speed and memory and patience….. so you can see why I fail often now.

Losing weight…. oh that is a battle too! Side effect of the med and lack of hormones..

Last time I poured my heart out and shared about how some of the deep lasting issues that cancer and SURVIVING mess with you I was attacked by a ‘friend’ on social media and worse yet behind my back to my friends. I was accused of being a Debbie Downer and to just get over it. Nothing can shut you down faster. I guess you do have to have a thick skin to write or share and be real. Do thick thighs count?

Knowing that I will work through all this somehow someway with Keith at my side, well that is HOPE. Knowing that when I see my oncologist and give him a list of my demands and issues that we can come to some sort of plan of action, that is HOPE. Believing that this new me will be accepted and understood by outsiders, that is HOPE with doubt. Believing that not having sex is normal for people our age well that is HOPEFUL yet sad… ha ha.

I am 100% sure this is nowhere near what I wanted to share our how I wanted it to come out but this is my ‘life as a fish in a small tank’ now. Every time I swim past the castle I say ‘ah castle’ no matter how many times I swim around the tank.

The Revenge Wogger may not be aptly named for getting revenge on running. It is still my safe space to share and vent and be me…

Tomorrow is the day I go in for an extraction. An extraction! It is what they call the out-patient surgery of removing the margins of an a-typical mole.

A-typical. A-typical mild this time. Last time was severe and they had to take a large section out to make sure the margins were clean. I am hoping not so much this time. Especially since it is on my right arm and I am right-handed. I know it will be fine. I have been down this road before. I have had more difficult surgeries before.

A scar is a small price to pay for peace of mind.

So why am I a bit anxious about it? I have no idea.

I have the mutated BRCA2 gene. It was something we found out after the diagnosis. It means I am most likely to get breast cancer..duh. Also very likely to end up with ovarian cancer so out they went (welcome hot flashes) and susceptible to skin cancer.

That is how I ended up at the Dermatologist for a full body scan and mapping. Not a big deal. You stand there in your underwear and they take a bright light and look at every inch of your skin carefully calling out markings and quadrants. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t forgotten my underwear.

Tomorrow I will have my underwear on and a bra just to be safe. Even my jeans if they fit.

I am using every excuse in the book today to not workout. Headache, lack of oxygen, bloody boogers and awful, awful hot flashes. Cats on Instagram and making a butt load of coffee. No not a coffee enema!

Oh the hot flashes!! Why are they back? I don’t get it. I am taking the meds faithfully. I know this because I have alarms set to remind me to take them no matter where I am. I have a timer on my computer at work that goes off and my cell phone has a daily alarm set too! I have to put everything on my calendar including this. Yet, I am back to having night sweats that last for at least fifteen minutes each time, and in the course of writing this very long running paragraph I have had two major hot flashes that my hair is dripping. YUCK!!!

I blame the headaches, boogers and lack of oxygen on the surrounding air quality. Our city is filled with smoke from the surrounding fires and it is playing havoc on everyone.

Yet the hot flashes….. I know it is a side effect from being shoved into menopause but I had them pretty well under control. At least manageable. Why now? What in the last two weeks has changed that they are like this now?

Okay, I wasted enough time complaining that nowIonly have time for a shower and to get ready for work!!! HA HA HA HA HA my evil plan worked, no time for a workout now!!!!

and the excuses keep coming.. so easily distracted…..

I will get back on track. I will beat this hot flash monster. I will beat the lack of motivation. I will be a good example again. Right after another cup of coffee and a few more happy cat videos on Instagram. #goals

You would think that after all I have been through with diagnosis, cancer treatments and surgery I would not be at a loss of words when someone tells me about a cancer.

Well, I still have no words. What do you tell someone who’s aunt just finished her fight with breast cancer and was doing so well only to find out now she has a completely different cancer in her lungs.

You don’t.

You sit there dumbfounded and selfishly thankful that it hasn’t happened to you yet. You spit out words of how they have really made great strides with immunotherapy for lung cancer and not to give up hope. That she fought before she can fight again. Words I say knowing that I would probably not fight the next time. Words that really bring no comfort to anyone. Words that make me feel like I am making it worse.

I just stopped talking. It is safer that way. I know this from my own experiences of people trying to comfort me with their words. I stop and hug. I cry with her. That has to be better than the words, it has to because that is all I truly can give.

After all this time..

I participated in a fundraiser event today for a woman hit by cancer. Her friend wanted to help with some of the out-of-pocket expenses. I was honored to be asked to come instruct a few songs. It has been soooo long. I am rusty. I practiced and practiced and practiced.

I should have practiced better words to share with her. Better words of encouragement. A better game face of how lucky I was in all of my treatments. How lucky I am to be on this end of it.

The other night I was at my son’s apartment helping him clean before his move. We were listening to 80’s music in the background and chatting. I was savoring every moment since I knew they will be few and far between now.

Then I hit my wall. I was exhausted and just couldn’t push myself through it. I needed to reserve enough energy and alertness to drive home.

I explained to him that no matter how healthy and energetic I am getting I still have a limited amount. When it is gone, it is gone.

He paused and shared a story with me that resonated with him.

A woman shared about spoons. We wake up in the morning with twelve spoons. We eat breakfast that uses one spoon. We drive to work that uses a spoon. We spend eight hours at work, that uses 3 spoons. At the end of the day we are out of spoons and we start over.

The woman explained that people who have had a life altering trauma or struggle with something like depression may wake up with twelve spoons or wake up with five spoons and try to make them stretch. Once the spoons are gone they are gone.

I tell you that I was so glad I didn’t have to explain it to him. That he just got it.

WordPress I come before you now. It has been twelve days since my last confession. I have been saving up.

I do not know if I have the passion or motivation to ever run, wog or jog again.

In fact I have no idea what my passion is anymore, if I even have passion.

I can not even recall when my last walk was. I am still working out. Lifting weights, dancing, and controlled cardio workouts. Just not wogging.

I do know this (here is comes, word vomit) :

I used CBD cream for the first time for the achy bones and it seems to help. The bones really hurt more and more now. Stupid Arimidex.

I somehow got poop on my favorite sweatshirt. My own poop and I am not even that flexible.

When you have menopause things change. Like the hair on your chin. You actually have hard coarse hair on your chin. Your sex life. It is pretty much non-existent. Not that we don’t want to, it is just harder. Bad choice of words there. Sex is painful. Not to mention I am very self-aware of my scars and misshapen body.

It has been so hot here that nothing seems possible. We finally had a break from the heat and I started taking care of the house and yard again.

My 30th class reunion is in October and I am excited to see some old friends. That was planned.

I haven’t washed my sheets since I moved into my house.

I have been basically blogging on Facebook instead of here. (cheating on WP)

Truth is my energy levels are still recovering. I only have so much energy per day and I spend it running around in circles looking for passion. Oops obviously not running, see earlier confession…chasing around in circles? spinning around in circles? chicken with her head cut off circles? I think you get it.. I just can’t seem to remember what it is I like.

There are mornings where I get up because I know that I can have a good cup of coffee if I do.

There are mornings when I get up because I have to. I have to water the yard. I have to do my workout. I have to do my homework. I have to go to work.

There are mornings, more of them lately where getting out of bed is difficult. Not because I am tired but because I physically struggle with it.

There are mornings where I overslept and have to rush around getting lunches made and shoes on, and out the door in record time.

There are mornings where I wake up from a dream that seemed so real that for a moment I am unaware of my surroundings.

Then there is this morning. This wonderful delicious morning that I am reminded that I have been fortunate enough to wake up one more time and be alive.

One more time for a good cup of coffee.

One more time to get the chance to take care of this yard we have earned One more chance to make myself stronger from a workout. One more chance to do homework that will make me a better, more confident and free person. One more chance to work hard at my job and be a good example to others.

One more time that even when it is hard to get out of bed I CAN GET OUT OF BED.

One more time that I can get ready in a pinch if I have to. I like being low maintenance.

One more time to understand my reality is beautiful. I have the husband who adores me, a son who hugs me and shares with me, a home that we own that makes me smile and never feels like work.

One more time to be thankful.. I am a fighter, survivor, mother, wife, sister, friend, neighbor, co-worker, dreamer.

This morning reminds me I have one more day of life that last year was questionable.

This morning reminds me that all things are possible but to focus on the points that really matter.

When I was released from the hospital after the seven hour double mastectomy/reconstruction surgery I had to face stairs. It is funny to me that you could have such an intense surgery that basically is an amputation and they send you home the very next day. But that is not what I want to talk about today. I want to talk about the stairs.

We had two short flights of stairs to get to our apartment. My sister and husband were on each side of me. My son and his girlfriend were behind me. I was drugged, and tired and full of drainage tubes and bandages. Yet I had to get up those stairs to get to my home.

I remember my husband’s voice so clearly when we got to the top. He was so impressed and proud of me for taking the stairs like a champ. I guess I walked up them like a ‘normal’ person would. You know one foot on one step at a time. He was so proud of me. It has been over a year and I can still hear him saying that in my head.

I like to make my husband proud of me. I catch myself doing things around the house hoping he will be impressed with what I got done. Like unpacking.

We recently moved from the cutest apartment in the world to a house. A house that will be our home. It has stairs leading to the master suite. This is a picture of those stairs. They creak on every step. They are steep. Yet none of that bothers me. Every time I walk up or down those stairs I think how far I have come from that day. How proud Keith is of me for walking up stairs. How thankful I am that I am capable and able to walk up and down stairs every day. That my knees and legs are strong enough. That I have balance and sure footedness. That I have strength and energy to go up and down these stairs several times a day.

My husband told me that when we get old we will have to convert the main floor into our living space because we won’t be able to make it up the stairs someday! I told him that if we keep going up and down the stairs our bodies will only get stronger and we won’t have to do that for a very long time. They are like a built-in treadmill/stairmaster.

These are my stairs. My victories. My motivations. My source of pride. One step at a time.

I wanted to call this ‘Shift Your Thinking!’ Shift your thinking has been rambling in my head for about a week now. It is concept that I am struggling to grasp. Oh I know so many people who have figured it out and mastered it. I am not one of those enlightened people. Truth is as this point in time I may never grasp it.

Round and round I go in my head. I want more, I need more. Just getting by is enough, just getting by is all I can do.

Enough.

I went and did Bloomsday 2017. I have the Finisher shirt to prove it. Trouble is I am unhappy with my time. I am unhappy with my lack of training. I am unhappy that I didn’t do better. I am unhappy that I got sunburnt. I just can’t seem to find the joy.

SHIFT YOUR THINKING RENEE!!

YOU DID BLOOMSDAY! You had freaking cancer and did chemo and surgeries and still set your mind to it and did f’n BLOOMSDAY! You finished on your feet jogging the last mile of it! You have run it slower twice before! You have had a long, dark, and cold winter and you got to do Bloomsday in the sun!!!!!!!!

I snapped a picture of me on a walk the other day and sent it to my friend. I said this “when I see this picture all I see is ‘even my boobs look fat’. When I should shift my thinking and say ‘wow, my boobs look huge!'” (it’s funny because my boobs are fake and will always be this size)

Why do I let myself tell myself such awful things? Is it our upbringing that if you say something good about yourself you must be conceited? That if you are not being humble then you are being a bitch? Shift your thinking. You can be humble and lift yourself up. You can see that you are worth the effort without being conceited. You can shift your thoughts to find the positive the productive the purpose. Shift.

I want to do better, yes. Is it wrong that I want to do better? No. Can I be proud of where I am at and what I want to do? Yes. Shift your thinking! Tell yourself you are a finisher. A finisher! Shift.

You learn to build walls to protect yourself from others words, yet we often let our own thoughts break us down swiftly. Shift.

Finisher. Finisher. Finisher. Shift.

In case you were wondering I did the 12k in 1:57 not bad for a newly 48-year-old who has only ever driven an automatic 😉 Shift.